Yes, most of us, these days, undisciplined,
approach the temple of pure poetry,
when some thought stirs in deepest heart and mind, ,
with all the earthy tread of careful prose…
yet with a certain hope, a faith, a love,
a purity of heart – that if we tread –
unmetered and unrhymed petitioners –
as pilgrims, sackclothed, ashen from the urn
of some poetic crematorium;
that, as we stumble on the heart’s true path,
the Muse, with long and patient, weary sigh,
– the music of the ages in her ears –
will catch up with our steps along the road
and guide us to that sacred, lovely place
where, with a gasp – our verses dropt from hand –
we’ll be where goodness, truth and beauty dance
and sing and laugh and love – now three; now one.
(thanks, WD)